


Pro/Con

by doublejoint



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Why does it have to be him?
Relationships: Jounouchi Ayame/Suoh Tamaki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2021: Apocalypse No





	Pro/Con

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 21 of the February Ficlet Challenge: Judgment

Ayame, once again, weighs the pros and cons of being in a relationship with Tamaki. It’s not an option right now; to say that it’s on the table, that she’d ever say yes to him, that he would ever ask (that she would ever ask) is about as ridiculous as, say, that yakuza heir in the gardening club from the year below her moving up to the A class. It’s completely absurd. But Ayame is never unprepared; should the occasion arise, should her feelings be something other than useless, she ought to have a game plan. She ought to have a judgment ready. She can’t be like Tamaki, caught on his heels by a question because he assumes his sugarcoated words will carry him through. 

She grips her teacup tightly. This won’t do; it’ll crack. Every time she thinks of him, she wants to squeeze something.

It is disgusting, this feeling; if she were to date him it would no doubt increase. And yet, is it not coming from her frustrations at his lack of reciprocation? If they were together, he would still be a host. She could demand that he stop, but he would retract his offer immediately (or Kyoya would blackmail her into backtracking on that conditional). Tamaki ceasing to host is more difficult to imagine than the two of them dating in the first place. Moreover, she would likely have to keep things quiet, as him hosting would be rightly seen as a disgrace to her, and it would (again, rightly) wear some of the sheen from his prince persona. 

Though, is it not disgusting to be this possessive, to want someone in such a way that they focus all of their attention on you? But is an instinct like that separable from the natural when society has built in the feeling that you must be special to someone for them to truly like you? Will she ever stop hating that he remembers every detail relating to every other girl, that he treats her just as specially as he treats everyone else who hires him? His attention is vexing, and she does not want to get it simply as another guest. But it’s the only way she can get time alone with him, or the most alone that she can get with him--other club members, other guests, the surveillance--and, though Ayame is not used to having make do, she has up to this point.

She marks hosting down in her mental con column.

* * *

“My, my, Princess,” Tamaki says, leaning forward ever-so-slightly. “This teacup compliments your looks so well.”

Ayame pauses. She could let him smile, let him wallow in his own self-satisfaction at having conveyed such a simple sentiment, and yes it does make her want to smile, and for a second makes her feel special, but he has probably said deeper things to half a dozen girls today. No, she won’t go easy on him this time.

“Are you saying I should be wearing white instead of yellow? That this uniform looks ugly on me? Are you calling me ill-dressed, despite your father being the chairman of this school and having the power to change things? Or are you suggesting that I wear something white, despite knowing that white clothing makes rumples and dirt--not that I would have any--obvious, and thus, are you saying you wish me to look ill-presented? Or, perhaps, that you wish to see me in a wedding dress, which would be a highly inappropriate leap over boundaries?”

Tamaki’s mouth opens and closes. Ayame sips the coffee. It’s a dark roast, slightly acrid on her tongue the way she likes it. Perhaps he’d remembered that, too, or perhaps it’s a coincidence. She’d been served a medium roast last time. (More likely, she reminds herself, it is something that Kyoya had overheard and written down, in order to improve customer service--despite having little reason for a business relationship with the Ohtori family, she hopes for the hospitals’ sake he’s made the heir. Hospitals could do with much better hospitality, quite frankly.)

“This coffee is good. What brand is it?”

“Ah--that is—”

“You don’t know? The most basic questions, that you ought to expect a customer to inquire about, even out of politeness, and you don’t know?”

(Ayame does know, actually, or she’s pretty sure.)

“Kyoya! Please tell Princess Ayame what coffee brand she’s having.”

Kyoya appears, suddenly somehow. Ayame adjusts her glasses.

“I hope I’m not being charged for both of you at once?”

“Of course not,” says Kyoya. “If you ask for an itemized receipt, I’ll charge this part to me and the rest of your timeslot to Tamaki. That’s fair, wouldn’t you say?”

“Kyoya! Get your own guests!”

“Do a better job at entertaining yours,” says Kyoya, and he tears out a piece of paper from his notebook. “Here is the information for the wholesaler from which we buy. Though I do believe you know the brand already?”

Ayame nods.

“Please do try not to upset him too much. If he stews about it in front of the other guests, I’ll have to charge you for lost revenue.”

“Understood,” says Ayame, her eyes scanning the paper, nothing surprising her.

She could afford it, but--she doesn’t want him to feel too badly, even if he does have an overinflated ego. And. Why does it have to be him she likes? Why couldn’t it be Kyoya, king of hospitality, a person with whom Ayame has always know exactly where she stood? Or, better yet, a normal classmate, completely uninvolved in entertaining other girls? Perhaps she’s merely in it for the challenge, the need to assert herself as the best, the one who stands out, popping in a contrasting color? Is that the wrong way to want someone? Ayame is annoyed at herself, all over again; she grips her cup harder.

“Is something wrong, Princess?”

His eyes hold concern, perhaps true, easier to accept as false. Ayame shakes her head. This time, there is no long explanation unfurling from her tongue like a comically long scroll. She takes another sip of her coffee.

“Thank you for asking.”

He beams at her. She avoids scowling back. The end of her timeslot has nearly arrived; she will not incur a further cost.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
